


Sent You To Me Without Wings

by cascades (heartroots)



Category: Super Junior
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-19
Updated: 2011-03-19
Packaged: 2017-11-07 16:27:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/433158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartroots/pseuds/cascades
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Sungmin puts the "gentleman" back in this gentlemen's club. (Sungmin is a respectable businessman, Donghae is a stripper. That is all that needs to be said.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sent You To Me Without Wings

**Author's Note:**

> Someone asked me for Haemin stripper!fic _forever_ ago. I can't remember if it was an anon or someone on Tumblr or what, but I FINALLY WROTE IT.

Sungmin is very unhappy with this situation. He wrinkles his nose at the cloying smell of smoke in the dimly lit room, swishes the ice around in his half empty drink and stares at the fold of bills on the table in front of him. A potential business partner sits to his right. He’s older than Sungmin by at least a decade or two, and he is far too important a man in the circles Sungmin runs in for Sungmin to have dared decline when he suggested they talk “somewhere more comfortable”. Sungmin is not sure how an, admittedly high-end, strip club qualifies in any way as “somewhere more comfortable” than the five star restaurant his potential business partner, his oily-haired associate, and Sungmin were at an hour ago, but, again, he had no choice in the matter. 

Sungmin pinches the bridge of his nose and tries not to look outright disgusted by the crass words the oily-haired associate is muttering about the woman on stage he’s tossing his money at. 

Sungmin is very, very unhappy with this… _venue_ as the backdrop for the most vital deal his burgeoning company will be making this quarter. And maybe even the quarter after that. He lets out a measured breath and takes another small sip of his drink. It’ll probably take two dry cleanings to get the smell of cigar smoke out of his suit. But he can’t let his discomfort throw him off his game. For all he knows, these men could have been planning to put him in an atmosphere that would make him uncomfortable, to increase the chances of him slipping up, all along. 

“I am intrigued by your offer, Mr. Lee,” his potential business partner says, as quietly as he can. Sungmin listens harder. Leaning forward to hear better would indicate that he has a higher interest in this deal than he wants to let on. “But I can’t, in good conscience, take you on as a partner until I know what sort of man you are. I need time to think and to… research thoroughly before I make my final decision. Enjoy the rest of your night. We’ll be in touch,” he says, and when he stands his oily-haired associate snaps to his feet as well, as if he’s a life-size marionette being tugged along by the strings. He didn’t ask Sungmin to return to their limo with him, so Sungmin supposes he’ll have to call a taxi once they’re gone. 

Sungmin sighs. Honestly, the night could have gone worse. It wasn’t a complete disaster. Now he just has to hope any research done on him turns up good things. 

Sungmin is about to get up and grab his coat when he realizes the fold of small bills he was supposed to spend is still on the table. Well. He can’t try to return it to the man who gave it to him. That would be rude. And he doesn’t feel right keeping it for himself. Sungmin sighs and settles back into his chair. He’ll just give it all to the woman who comes on stage next. Problem solved. 

Only, it’s not a woman who comes on stage next. It’s a man. Sungmin had no idea this establishment had male strippers too. Alright, well. He’ll give all the money to this man, and then he’ll leave. This very good-looking man. Definitely attractive, Sungmin decides, as the man undresses. Sungmin can’t help but admire his broad shoulders, tan and strong and perfectly smooth. The man’s hands frame his crotch through his loose pants as he rolls his body like an expert. Which he is, Sungmin supposes. The man loses his pants, shrugs his shirt off all the way and is left wearing only a black silk tie, cuffs that, as is turns out, were not attached to his shirt, and a black silk… _undergarment_ that Sungmin is not sure qualifies as a pair of boxers. Or even boxer briefs. They would be the briefest of boxer briefs, if they were. 

“Gorgeous” is a word Sungmin might use to describe him, if he gave compliments freely. He shifts in his chair, erection growing against his will, as the man moves across the stage and sways to a beat he must only hear in his head because it doesn’t match the timing of the drab music playing in the club. The man’s smile is cocky. Genuine, friendly, and effortlessly sexy. The exact sort of attitude needed to reel in the desperate suckers who think they’ll actually be able to make a real connection with him. As if he isn’t trained to do everything your heart desires for as long as the cash keeps coming. 

Sungmin is not a sucker. He does want to fuck this man, but he’s not going to. It’s an idle whim. A lot of money in exchange for a few seconds of rushing endorphins, a shameful escape, and whatever it costs to dry clean semen from an Italian suit. Any cost-benefit analysis could prove the drawbacks aren’t worth the orgasm. And yet… Sungmin can’t deny that he’s interested. 

He wonders how badly it would damage his reputation if it got out that Lee Sungmin fucks strippers. Male ones, at that. 

_No_ , he says to himself, as firmly as his crushing grip on the folded money. _It’s not worth it._

When the man is close enough to make eye contact with Sungmin, to smile and seductively wet his lips, Sungmin drains what’s left of his watered-down drink and stiffly places the money on the stage. He is about to walk away when he feels a hand on his shoulder. 

“Sir, don’t you want something in exchange for this?” 

His voice. It’s so… it sends a thrill up Sungmin’s spine, even more blood rushing below his belt. Well, he can no longer walk out with his dignity intact; his slacks are not at all effective at camouflaging erections. “I… wasn’t planning on asking for anything,” he says finally. Sungmin realizes with a start that he’s one of only five patrons left in the club. One is passed out drunk, one is toying with the lace on the skimpy outfit of one of the dancers from earlier, and the other two are staring at the new man who just stepped out on stage. Apparently this man, the one who’s touching Sungmin’s shoulder, is done for now. 

Sungmin swallows. He could use another drink. 

“You _weren’t_ planning on it? Does that mean you are now?” the man asks as he slips the money into the waistband of his tiny shorts. His tongue peeks out when he smiles, flicks over his lips to wet them once again. Sungmin gathers that he likely has an oral fixation. 

“I-I really should be going.” Sungmin curses himself for the slight stutter.

“You do realize,” the man says as he climbs off the stage, walks around Sungmin’s table and nearly backs him up against the edge of it, “that you gave me more than enough for a private dance.”

“It’s not my money. I have no use for it, and I thought it ought not to go to waste.” 

“Giving it to a stripper isn’t letting it go to waste?” 

“I don’t see why it would be.” 

The man cocks his head to the side, smiling a different sort of smile at him. “What’s your name?” 

“What’s yours?”

“Donghae,” he answers easily. 

Sungmin supposes he owes Donghae an answer. Even if Donghae isn’t his real name. “Sungmin.” 

“Hello Sungmin. Would you like a private dance? I’m very good,” Donghae says, and his grin is just lascivious enough to have Sungmin imagining it: Donghae moving those hips again, but this time just for Sungmin and maybe without anything on, maybe with Sungmin’s cock buried deep inside him. 

Sungmin fights the urge to tug nervously at his suddenly suffocating collar. “I’m sure you are, Donghae. But I really must be going.” 

“Please stay.” Donghae leans in, fingertips lightly gripping Sungmin’s tie, pulling the knot just the slightest bit loose as he whispers, “I hardly ever get to dance for men who turn me on.” 

Sungmin swallows. Donghae presses closer, rolls his hips into Sungmin's and breathes hot against his neck. Sungmin stands very still, but he can't stop his hips from angling into Donghae's. And as tightly as Donghae has their groins pressed together, he must be able to feel how hard Sungmin is. Feel how much Sungmin wants this. Wants him. Donghae smiles, places his hands on the lapels of Sungmin's perfectly pressed jacket and says, “Don't I turn you on too, Sungmin?”

There's no point in lying— Donghae has all the evidence he needs pressing into his bare thigh. “I think you can... discern that for yourself.”

Donghae laughs, twirling Sungmin's tie between his fingers. “Let me ask you something.”

“All right.” Sungmin’s wariness is ebbing with each teasing roll of Donghae's hips.

“Have you done anything like this before?”

“Paid someone to get naked for me? No. I've never had any trouble getting people to do it for free.”

“I'd do it for free,” Donghae whispers flirtatiously. “But I think I'll keep the money you already paid me anyway.”

It's Sungmin who laughs this time, despite his misgivings. Donghae is charming, confident, handsome. Exactly the kind of man Sungmin would approach anywhere else. If Donghae were wearing clothes, perhaps a fine suit (an entire suit, not just the tie and the cuffs) and had walked into one of the many formal affairs Sungmin regularly attends to get his name out there with that same smile, that same laugh, would Sungmin have tried to seduce him? 

_Yes_ , Sungmin answers himself automatically, _in a heartbeat._ Sungmin made it very clear to Donghae that he didn't have to give Sungmin anything in return for his money. That means he's doing this because he wants to. Because Sungmin turns him on. And with that in mind and Donghae's erection, poorly restrained by his tiny black shorts, pressing against his stomach, Sungmin decides he very much would like a private dance. “Okay, Donghae. You can dance for me.”

Donghae’s smile is wide as he takes Sungmin by the hand to lead him through the club, past the remaining patrons, who Sungmin is glad to see are all otherwise occupied, and into a small room tucked away in a corner. Donghae puts the money in a little box on a side table near the entranceway. The lighting is low and soft, the music playing has a sexier vibe, and the décor is expensive enough to give the room the air of luxury. As if the men come for a sophisticated evening of conversation and not to, well, _come_. Sungmin is amused by the façade. And by the pole in front of the plush chair Donghae pushes him to sit in. 

“A stripper pole? How cliché.”

“I don't have to dance on the pole,” Donghae says, even as he slides his body down the length of the pole, pressing the tight curve of his ass back against it and spreading his thighs wide as he nears the floor, “if you don't want me to.”

Sungmin imagines goose bumps must be rising on Donghae's flesh everywhere it touches the cold metal, wonders how much it would heat up if Donghae started grinding against it, sweaty and desperate, as he put on a show for Sungmin. As appealing as that sounds, he'd rather have Donghae straddling his thigh than the pole; he's sure he could offer much more satisfying friction. “You could dance on me instead,” Sungmin boldly offers.

Donghae snaps back up straight in one smooth motion and leans casually against the pole. “I like that idea.”

“Come over here then.”

Donghae feigns absentmindedness as he adjusts his cock through his impossibly short shorts, lips pursing as he ponders Sungmin’s request. “Do you want me to come over there to _dance_ ,” Donghae asks, stroking his clothed erection with a mischievous glint in his eye, “or so you can fuck me, Sungmin?” 

Sungmin's mouth is dry. “Um,” he says eloquently. 

Donghae walks towards him. His every step is graceful, measured and deliberate. He moves like he is completely comfortable in and confident of his body. And why shouldn't he be? Sungmin certainly wouldn't be shy if he had a body like that. “How about you think about where else this is going while I dance?” Donghae says. 

Sungmin doubts he’ll be able to think about anything else. He watches, enthralled, as Donghae moves his body like it's the most natural thing in the world for him. If he had clothes on, Sungmin wouldn't be surprised to see him dancing on stage for a crowd of hundreds, maybe even thousands, of cheering fans; he certainly wasn't lying about being very good. The way he thrusts his hips is particularly impressive. Every thrust is precisely angled as if he’s thrusting into someone, and for a moment Sungmin entertains the idea of having Donghae fuck him with those hips instead of Sungmin fucking him. It’s a tough decision, but Donghae seems like he’ll be a great fuck either way. 

Well. So much for Lee Sungmin doesn’t fuck strippers. 

Sungmin curses when Donghae drops fluidly to his knees in front of him. Donghae tosses his hair out of his eyes and runs his palms up the insides of Sungmin’s thighs, fingertips tracing pinstripes. “Can I?” he asks at the intersection of the inseams. 

Sungmin makes an undignified noise when Donghae cups his bulge and starts rubbing. “Uh, s-sure.” 

Donghae unzips Sungmin's fly and moves his boxers aside to free his erection. He scoots closer and takes Sungmin's cock into his mouth, takes him all the way to the base without incident and then pulls off just as smoothly, perhaps to demonstrate how willing and able he'd be to let Sungmin fuck his mouth. Donghae slowly fists Sungmin's cock, licking and sucking leisurely at the head as if they have all the time in the world, and he wants to spend every minute of it teasing Sungmin until he grabs Donghae by the hair and forces his cock down his throat. Sungmin would never (without asking first), but he has a feeling Donghae would like it if he did.

“Do you want me to,” Donghae pauses to lap at the precome leaking from Sungmin’s slit, “dance on you now?" 

Sungmin digs his fingers into his thigh. He manages to keep his voice steady when he says, “Yes, please.”

Donghae lets go of Sungmin's cock and stands. Sungmin's eyes are immediately drawn to Donghae's crotch, namely his constrained cock, which is even harder than before. It shifts in his shorts as he steps forward and straddles Sungmin's thigh, one leg bent around Sungmin's back to keep himself steady when he starts grinding against him. Sungmin runs a hand down Donghae's spine to the small of his back, fingertips moving slickly over Donghae's sweaty skin. With his other hand, he winds the loose ends of Donghae's tie around his fingers to keep him close. Sungmin grazes the skin above the back of Donghae shorts, dips his hand inside and takes the opportunity to grope Donghae's ass. The decision of whether he wants to fuck Donghae or wants Donghae to fuck him is made when he presses his fingertips to Donghae's entrance and Donghae shudders and moans and pushes his ass back against Sungmin's hand for more; Sungmin can’t go on without knowing how much more wanton Donghae will be when Sungmin’s fucking him. 

"I'm assuming you have lube? Condoms?" Sungmin whispers into Donghae's ear.

“Of course. In every color and flavor you can imagine,” Donghae cheerfully, a little breathlessly, informs him. He swings his legs over the arm of the chair and hops out, shorts riding obscenely low on his hips as he strides over to a cabinet in the corner. 

Sungmin makes a skeptical face. “Uh, flavorless lube and regular condoms would be fine?” 

“You sure you don’t want,” Donghae says as he rummages through a box of what appears to be condoms of every color of the rainbow, “hot pink? Or electric orange? What about neon blue? That sounds exciting.” 

“No thank you,” Sungmin laughs, a little awkwardly. “My dick is fine the color it is.” 

Donghae shrugs. “Suit yourself.” He returns with plain condoms and plain lube, Sungmin is happy to see. Sungmin sets them on the arm of the chair. Donghae backs up and sits halfway in Sungmin’s lap, knocking the air out of Sungmin’s lungs. “I never finished dancing on you,” he explains, and wriggles around on Sungmin’s lap until his ass is rubbing directly against Sungmin’s groin. It’s less of a lap dance and more of a dry humping, but Sungmin can’t complain when his cock is nestled between the cheeks of Donghae’s ass, the silk of Donghae’s shorts so luxurious against his sensitive skin. Sungmin leans forward, hooks his chin over Donghae’s shoulder and palms Donghae’s erection through his shorts. Donghae lets out a breathy moan and rolls his hips into Sungmin’s hand, which in turn provides friction to Sungmin’s cock. But it’s not enough. Sungmin is getting impatient. 

“This is nice and all,” Sungmin says as he toys with the loose knot of Donghae’s tie, “but I really want to fuck you now.” 

Immediately after Donghae voices his approval, Sungmin lifts him off his lap and propels him to his slightly unsteady feet. Sungmin sits on the edge of his seat so he doesn’t have to reach very far to cup Donghae’s ass through his shorts. His urge to grope satisfied, he presses down on the lower half of Donghae’s back; Donghae obediently bends at the waist. 

“Can you reach the pole to hold onto?” Sungmin asks as he drags Donghae’s shorts halfway down his ass. 

Donghae nods and leans forward to grab the pole with both hands. His muscles are straining in the awkward position, but he won’t have to stay like this for long; Sungmin will make sure he’s plenty comfortable once he’s prepared. Sungmin tugs Donghae’s shorts all the way down to his thighs and the spread of Donghae’s legs keeps them from falling. Donghae lets out a soft gasp when Sungmin’s fingers, coated in lube he warmed between his palms, press against his entrance. 

“You don’t have to,” Donghae tells him with a shake of his head, “You can fuck me dry.” 

“I want to,” Sungmin says, and is glad for it when he pushes the first two fingers in. Donghae is _tight_. Sungmin probably would have hurt him if he’d just shoved right in. But maybe Donghae is used to that. He fingers Donghae slowly, enjoying the close view of Donghae stretching gradually around his fingers. Not until both fingers slide in and out smoothly and Donghae groans for more does he add another. Three fingers makes Donghae arch and moan brokenly, and Sungmin isn’t even pushing them as deep as they can go. Sungmin can hardly believe how responsive he is. Donghae is sweating even more than before and his grip on the pole slips because of it, nearly fails altogether when Sungmin pushes in deeper and crooks his fingers inside of him. 

“Please fuck me, Sungmin,” Donghae breathes as he fucks back onto Sungmin’s fingers, as best he can without much leverage. 

Sungmin can’t refuse when Donghae begs so gorgeously. Sungmin pulls his fingers free. “Turn around,” he says, and Donghae does. More blood rushes to Sungmin’s cock at the sight of Donghae so disheveled, naked except for his undone tie; his cuffs are on the floor somewhere near the pole and his shorts fell to the floor when he stood back up straight. He steps out of them and kicks them aside, his hard cock bobbing almost directly in front of Sungmin’s face. Sungmin licks his lips. He beckons with two shiny fingers. “Come here.” 

Donghae does as he’s told and Sungmin, after Donghae helps him get his slacks and underwear down to his knees, settles Donghae into his lap to straddle his slightly spread thighs. He rips a condom open with his teeth and hands it to Donghae. Donghae slides it onto Sungmin’s cock, stroking him with talented fingers once it’s all the way on. Sungmin bites his lip, even more impatient after he’s been touched. He puts his hand over Donghae’s to guide the head of his cock to nudge up against Donghae’s entrance. Donghae puts one leg up over Sungmin’s shoulder with an easy grin, and, steadied by Sungmin’s grip on his waist, sinks down onto Sungmin’s cock in one smooth, unceremonious motion. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Sungmin hisses. His eyes are trained somewhere above Donghae head as he tries not to come too soon at the feeling of Donghae suddenly so hot and tight and clenching around him.

“Feels good,” Donghae murmurs, already shifting around on Sungmin’s lap to get him deeper.

_Better than good_ , Sungmin thinks. At least from where he's sitting. He helps Donghae raise himself up on trembling thighs and then drops him back down with little finesse. Donghae moans, hair falling into his eyes as he works his hips. He keeps his hands on Sungmin’s chest, beneath the jacket that’s slipped mostly off his shoulders, and uses the leverage of his bare toes on the floor to ride Sungmin's cock. His breath comes in pants, but he catches just enough of it to say, “Faster, Sungmin. Help me.”

Sungmin slides his hand down the line of the leg Donghae has propped up on his shoulder. The muscles in Donghae’s thigh twitch and tense under his touch. “I bet it’d feel really good if I bent you over the arm of this chair and fucked you like that,” Sungmin muses, thrusting as slowly and shallowly as he can bear. Donghae whimpers. “But I like you like this.” Sungmin indicates for Donghae to bring his other knee up and rest it on the seat, wedged between Sungmin's thigh and the arm of the chair. The new position lifts Donghae up high enough that Sungmin's cock slips halfway out of his ass. Donghae tries to lower himself back onto it without losing his balance, but Sungmin stops him with a hand on his stomach. “Let me,” he says.

Donghae swallows and nods. His eyes when they meet Sungmin's are wide and dazed, pupils dilated. 

Briefly Sungmin teases the slick head of Donghae's cock with his fingers, the solid press of his thumb. Donghae's so hard it must be torture for him to wait like this. Sungmin would give in to his pity for Donghae if he didn't look so beautiful desperate, lips trembling around shallow breaths turned shaky. Donghae combs his hair off his face with an unsteady hand, wets his lips. The tie still hanging around his neck slips closer to falling.

“How close are you?” Sungmin asks, teasingly thrusting into Donghae with just the head of his cock. He's not sure how long he can hold out himself. 

“So close. Fuck me, Sungmin, _really_ fuck me. Don't hold back. Make me come,” Donghae pleads. There's a waver in his voice and his bottom lip is caught sharply between his teeth, as if he's trying not to cry.

“Donghae.” Sungmin breathes his name soothingly. He touches his fingers to Donghae's parted lips. Wonders if he's allowed to kiss him. Donghae's eyes flutter shut as Sungmin thrusts up into him with abandon. He has just enough room to maneuver and, although his muscles are starting to cramp, he's going to give Donghae everything he's got. He puts one hand on Donghae's lower back and the other on Donghae's inner thigh to keep him spread open as he sets a steady pace. Donghae's breathing stutters, his breaths getting shorter the faster Sungmin fucks him. 

Donghae lets out a strangled moan and a, “Fuck yes, oh god do that again,” when Sungmin adjusts the angle of his hips and thrusts in all the way to the hilt. Sungmin must have found his prostate. With a smug smile on his face, Sungmin hones his aim and hits Donghae there again and again until he can barely catch his breath. Sungmin pries one of Donghae’s hands from the front of his shirt and wraps it around his cock to help him along. Donghae moans, spreading his precome over his length to ease the slide of his fist. Donghae’s orgasm hits him not long after, spine curving and toes curling next to Sungmin’s ear with pleasure as come coats his knuckles. He lets out ragged moan, his body relaxing once he’s spent, and Sungmin has to hold him tight to keep him from flopping over. Sungmin comes a few erratic thrusts later, buried deep inside Donghae as Donghae clenches around him and whispers filthy encouragement in his ear. 

Sungmin slumps back into the chair, good posture forgotten in his dazed state. Donghae carefully removes his leg from Sungmin’s shoulder, wincing at what Sungmin assumes must be an intense muscle cramp. Sungmin, his wits mostly gathered, slings an arm low around Donghae’s waist and uses his free hand to massage Donghae’s cramping thigh for him. He’s hardly an experienced masseuse, but Donghae sighs and practically purrs under his touch all the same. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs happily, his smile close enough to kiss. And then, a lot less happily, “Ah, shit.” 

Sungmin blinks at Donghae in question. “Huh?” 

“I’m sorry. I tried not to, but I got come on your suit,” Donghae says sheepishly and points to a few small stains on Sungmin’s jacket. 

Sungmin has no idea if it’s possible to get semen stains out of an Italian suit, but even if it is ruined he finds he couldn’t care less. “Don’t worry about it. It’ll come out,” Sungmin lies with a weak wave of his hand. “I’ve got a great dry cleaner.” 

“You know,” Donghae says as he lifts himself up off of Sungmin’s cock a little shakily, climbs out of his lap and grabs some wipes from the table to clean them both up, “When I saw you, I figured you’d be the type to come in your pants less than a minute into the lap dance.” 

Sungmin laughs incredulously. “Should I be offended?” 

Donghae helps Sungmin up out of the chair and hands him a wipe for his hands. “Maybe? Can you blame me? You look nothing but straight-laced. I was very glad to be proven wrong, if that helps,” he adds with a dirty grin. 

“I guess it helps a little,” Sungmin says good-naturedly. He stuffs his cock back inside his boxers and zips up his slacks, tucks his shirt back in and does up the buttons near the collar that popped open when Donghae was wringing it between his fists. He takes his jacket off and folds it over his arm; the stains on it are too noticeable for him to wear it out. When he looks up from fixing his shirt cuffs, Donghae’s face is inches from his. 

“Fix your tie?” he offers, his head cocked cutely to the side. 

Sungmin nods a little slowly. His heart is thudding away in his chest long after it should have returned to a normal beat. Donghae steps closer, still unashamedly naked, and pops Sungmin’s collar up, re-aligns the loop around his neck, slides the knot up and tightens it. Then he folds Sungmin’s collar back down and smoothes the tails of the tie. “There,” he says. “Perfectly presentable.” 

Sungmin leans in and kisses Donghae before he can convince himself not to. Donghae sucks in a sharp breath against Sungmin’s lips, his entire body gone still, and for a moment Sungmin is fearful he’s made a huge mistake. But then Donghae makes a soft sound of acquiescence and kisses back, his hips knocking into Sungmin’s as he surges into the kiss and his palm heavy and warm in the middle of Sungmin’s chest. 

“I hope I was allowed to do that,” Sungmin says hesitantly when the kiss ends, his heart thumping. “I… I really wanted to do that.” 

“I normally don’t kiss clients, but,” Donghae pauses; Sungmin is not expecting Donghae to kiss him again during this pause. “You didn’t really pay me, so you’re not really a client, are you?” 

Sungmin’s phone ringing in his pocket startles them both out of a third kiss. Sungmin mutters an apology and digs his phone out of his pocket to take the call. His assistant. Apparently it’s almost 5 AM (Sungmin checks his watch to confirm and thanks his lucky stars he _wasn’t_ paying Donghae by the hour) and he needs to be in his office an hour and a half early today to prepare to oversee a business deal. With the man who’d dragged Sungmin to this strip club three hours ago. Sungmin manages to contain some very unprofessionally hysterical laughter. He got it. 

“Yes, I’ll be there,” he says when his assistant finishes talking. “Of course I’ll be on time. Thank you for calling, Ryeowook.” Sungmin hangs up and drops his phone back into his pocket, already attempting to figure out how he’s going to manage to get home, shower, eat something to appease his empty stomach, and arrive at work ready to negotiate before 6:30. 

Donghae looks inquisitively at him. “You have to go?” 

“Yes,” Sungmin says, and, oddly enough, finds he’s reluctant to leave. He just fucked a stripper. Shouldn’t he be tripping over himself to get away? 

“Oh. Okay.” Donghae steps aside so he’s no longer blocking the exit, a half-smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes on his lips. “Have a good night— uh, morning, Sungmin. I hope you’ll come again.” 

From the flat delivery, Sungmin can tell that’s a line they’re told to recite at the end of all their transactions. But he could swear Donghae puts an inflection all his own on the, "hope". Or perhaps he’s sleep-deprived and imagining things, too eager to listen to his heart when his mind is overwhelmed with business matters. He leaves the room with a polite farewell to Donghae and quietly exits the empty club into pouring rain. His shirt is soaked through by the time he hails a taxi and climbs inside. Before he tells the driver his destination, he wipes one hand dry on the seat cushion and takes out his phone to note the exact address of the club, hoping Donghae really does want him to come again.


End file.
